"Fire!"
And the guns on the starboard side, with a loud roar, sent forth their
missiles of death.
While the crew were running them in to re-load, the enemy fired in
return; their shot came crashing against the sides, some sweeping the
upper deck, others making their way through the ports.
The smoke from the guns curled round in thick eddies, through which
objects could be but dimly seen.
The boys looked at each other. All of them were seated on their tubs,
but they could see several forms stretched on the deck, some
convulsively moving their limbs, others stilled in death.
This was likely to be a very different affair from the former action.
Having handed out the powder, Jack, Tom, and Bill returned to their
places once more.
The _Foxhound's_ guns again thundered forth, and directly after there
came the crashing sound of shot, rending the stout sides of the ship.
For several minutes the roar was incessant. Presently a cheer was heard
from the deck.
One of the Frenchman's masts had gone over the side; but before many
minutes had elapsed, a crashing sound overhead showed that the
_Foxhound_ had been equally unfortunate.
Her foremast had been shot away by the board, carrying with it the
bowsprit and maintopmast.
She was thus rendered almost unmanageable, but still her brave captain
maintained the unequal contest.
The guns, as they could be brought to bear, were fired at the enemy with
such effect that she was compelled to sheer off to repair damages.
On seeing this, the crew of the _Foxhound_ gave another hearty cheer;
but ere the sound had died away, down came the mainmast, followed by the
mizenmast, and the frigate lay an almost helpless hulk on the water.
Captain Waring at once gave the order to clear the wreck, intending to
get up jury-masts, so as to be in a condition to renew the combat should
the French ship again attack them.
All hands were thus busily employed. The powder in the meantime was
returned to the magazine, and the guns run in and secured.
The ship was in a critical condition.
The carpenters, before anything else could be done, had to stop the
shot-holes between wind and water, through which the sea was pouring in
several places.
It was possible that the prisoners might not resist the temptation,
while the crew were engaged, to attempt retaking the ship.
The captain and officers redoubled their watchfulness. The crew went
steadily about their work, as men who knew that their lives depended on
their exertions. Even the stoutest-hearted, however, looked grave.
The weather was changing for the worse, and should the wind come from
the northward, they would have a hard matter to escape being wrecked,
even could they keep the ship afloat.
The enemy, too, was near at hand, and might at any moment bear down upon
them, and recommence the action.
The first lieutenant, as he was coming along the deck, met Bill, who was
trying to make himself useful in helping where he was wanted.
"Rayner," said Mr Saltwell, "I want you to keep an eye on the
prisoners, and report to the captain or me, should you see anything
suspicious in their conduct--if they are talking together, or look as if
they were waiting for a signal. I know I can trust you, my boy."
Bill touched his hat.
"I will do my best, sir," he answered; and he slipped down to where the
prisoners were congregated.
They did not suspect that he had before informed the captain of their
intended outbreak, or it would have fared but ill with him.
Whatever might have been their intentions, they seemed aware that they
were carefully watched, and showed no inclination to create a
disturbance.
The greatest efforts were now made to set up the jury-masts. The wind
was increasing, and the sea rising every minute. The day also was
drawing on, and matters were getting worse and worse; still Captain
Waring and his staunch crew worked away undaunted. If they could once
get up the jury-masts, a course might be steered either for the Isle of
Wight or Plymouth. Sails had been got up from below; the masts were
ready to raise, when there came a cry of, "The enemy is standing towards
us!"
"We must beat her off, and then go to work again," cried the captain.
A cheer was the response. The powder-magazine was again opened. The
men flew to their guns, and prepared for the expected conflict.
The French ship soon began to fire, the English returning their salute
with interest. The round shot, as before, whistled across the deck,
killing and wounding several of the crew.
The sky became still more overcast; the lightning darted from the
clouds; the thunder rattled, mocked by the roaring of the guns.
Bill saw his shipmates knocked over on every side; but, as soon as one
of the crew of a gun was killed, another took his place, or the
remainder worked the gun with as much rapidity as before.
The cockpit was soon full of wounded men. Though things were as bad as
they could be, the captain had resolved not to yield.
The officers went about the decks encouraging the crew, assuring them
that they would speedily beat off the enemy.
Every man, even the idlest, was doing his duty.
Jack, Tom, and Bill were doing theirs.
Suddenly a cry arose from below of "Fire! fire!" and the next moment
thick wreaths of smoke ascended through the hatchways, increasing every
instant in density.
The firemen were called away. Even at that awful moment the captain and
officers maintained their calmness.
Now was the time to try what the men were made of. The greater number
obeyed the orders they received. Buckets were handed up and filled with
water to dash over the seat of the fire. Blankets were saturated and
sent down below.
The enemy ceased firing, and endeavoured to haul off from the
neighbourhood of the ill-fated ship. In spite of all the efforts made,
the smoke increased, and flames came rushing up from below. Still, the
crew laboured on; hope had not entirely abandoned them, when suddenly a
loud roar was heard, the decks were torn up, and hundreds of men in one
moment were launched into eternity.
Jack, Tom, and Bill had before this made their escape to the upper deck.
They had been talking together, wondering what was next to happen, when
Bill lost all consciousness; but in a few moments recovering his senses,
found himself in the sea, clinging to a piece of wreck.
He heard voices, but could see no one. He called to Tom and Jack,
fancying that they must be near him, but no answer came.
He must have been thrown, he knew, to some distance from the ship, for
he could see the burning wreck, and the wind appeared to be driving him
farther and farther away from it.
The guns as they became heated went off, and he could hear the shot
splashing in the water around him.
"And Jack and Tom have been lost, poor fellows!" he thought to himself.
"I wish they had been sent here. There's room enough for them on this
piece of wreck.
"We might have held out till to-morrow morning, when some vessel might
have seen us and picked us up."
Curiously enough, he did not think much about himself. Though he was
thankful to have been saved, he guessed truly that the greater number of
his shipmates, and the unfortunate prisoners on board, must have been
lost; yet he regretted Jack and Tom more than all the rest.
The flames from the burning ship cast a bright glare far and wide over
the ocean, tinging the foam-topped seas.
Bill kept gazing towards the ship. He could make out the Frenchman at
some distance off, and fancied that he saw boats pulling across the
tossing waters.
On the other side he could distinguish another vessel, which was also,
he hoped, sending her boats to the relief of the sufferers.
The whole ship, however, appeared so completely enveloped in fire, the
flames bursting out from all the ports and rising through every
hatchway, that he could not suppose it possible any had escaped.
He found it a hard matter to cling on to the piece of wreck, for the
seas were constantly washing over him. Happily it was weighted below,
so that it remained tolerably steady. Had it rolled over and over he
must inevitably have lost his hold and been drowned.
Though he had had very little of what is called enjoyment in life, and
his prospects, as far as he could see, were none of the brightest, he
still had no wish to die, and the instinct of self-preservation made him
cling to the wreck with might and main.
The tide, which was setting towards the shore, had got hold of his raft,
which was also driven by the wind in the same direction, and he found
himself drifting gradually away from the burning ship, and his chance of
being picked up by one of the boats diminishing.
He remembered that land had been in sight some time before the action,
but how far the ship had been from it when she caught fire he could not
tell, and when he turned his eyes to the southward he could see nothing
of it.
Some hours had passed away, so it seemed to him, when, as he turned his
eyes towards the ship, the flames appeared to rise up higher than ever.
Her stout hull was a mass of fire fore and aft--she was burning down to
the water's edge. Then came the end--the wild waves washed over her,
and all was dark.
"There goes the old ship," thought Bill. "I wonder how many on board
her a few hours ago are now alive. Shall I reach the shore to-morrow
morning? I don't see much chance of it, and if I don't, how shall I
ever live through another day?"